


i saw galaxies in your eyes;

by icebucky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, current i guess?, harry paints louis and harry paints on louis, larry - Freeform, painter!harry, subtle modest wank, they're on the break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5732140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/pseuds/icebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry starts painting, and sometimes Louis is his canvas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i saw galaxies in your eyes;

**Author's Note:**

> So, pictures of Harry surfaced today where he was in an art supply store, around the paints and canvases. This got my brain churning out ideas. I don't know, painter!Harry is just really cute to me, and I love the idea of him painting Louis, painting on Louis, teaching Louis how to paint, etc, etc. It's my first 1d fic so please be nice to me.

Harry paints.

Louis' known this for a while, but he's never really paid much attention to it. They've always been too busy for Harry to actually do anything big; it's not like he could take his art on the road, and he couldn't focus enough around the other boys to get anything out on the canvas.

Now, though, now he's started painting again, and while Louis hasn't really been around to see them coming together, he knows that this, like everything Harry's hands can do, will be incredible.

He FaceTimes Harry on Tuesday, from his hotel in Los Angeles, and he sees that Harry has a smear of blue on his cheekbone and his hair is tucked behind his ear with a paintbrush, but he forgets to ask about it because he gets lost in the way Harry's eyes are lighting up as he talks about what he's been doing this week and how much he misses Louis.

And Louis misses Harry too much to change the subject, because he doesn't want to see the light in his eyes dim, even for a minute.

Harry, in London, has started painting more than he was expecting to. He didn't think he'd even be able to fill one canvas, let alone five, but he has and he's running out of paint but not ideas, never ideas, because he has hundreds of pictures of Louis in both his head and his camera roll to choose from and the art just keeps flowing from his fingers onto the canvases and he's been to the art store twice this week already.

Louis is coming home in three days and the house is full of art and Harry is so full of love he feels like he's going to burst.

Louis comes home and Harry can't pick him up from the airport and kiss him as soon as he comes out of the terminal even though he wants to, he _wants_ to so fucking badly, but he paints and he waits for Louis to open the door and when he does he's greeted by a tight hug and a hand in his hair that still has blue paint on it and a breathless kiss that he's been waiting for for so long.

They make love slow that night, and Louis falls asleep with his hands in Harry's curls and swirling colors in his dreams. He wakes up the next morning to the sounds of Harry singing in the shower and a galaxy painted on the back of his right hand and hickeys all over his neck.

It becomes a bit of a tradition, at least when Louis falls asleep first, because Harry can't sleep sometimes and his brain is still going. On Saturday morning, there's a sun scrawled on his left cheek; on Sunday, there's a forest on his ankle; Monday morning dawns with a series of clouds on the inside of his right forearm. He takes pictures of them every day when he finds them, and after he's finished documenting them he leaves the bedroom and kisses Harry on the cheek and his heart swells with love.

They go out to the store and Louis picks out sunset shades of pink and gold and orange and Harry chooses blues and greens and purples and Louis almost kisses him right there in the paint aisle.

But he doesn't, because he sees two girls watching them and whispering at the back of the store and he knows that in about fifteen minutes they're going to be all over Twitter.

He'd give anything to be able to kiss Harry in public.

Instead, he kisses Harry as soon as they shut the door to the house, and the bag of art supplies slips from his fingers and lands with a clatter on the floor, and he loves Harry so much he thinks his heart is going to fly out of his chest.

Harry makes Louis pose for him that night, and Louis makes a lot of  _paint me like one of your French girls_ jokes as Harry shushes him and scrunches up his right eye in concentration like he does when he's singing. When he's done, he won't let Louis see it, even though he wants to, but Harry kisses him softly and insists that keeping with their little tradition, Louis can't see it until the morning.

He's impatient, but he gives in when Harry kisses him again while walking him backwards to the bed.

There are pink handprints on the sheets the next morning, but neither of them care that they're not going to wash out. Harry's piece turns out beautifully and Louis kisses him in the rosy golden morning light, and he can't take his eyes off of the way Harry captured them in the sunset shades.

It's been a solid week and a half though, and they know, they know, they know that Harry's leaving soon, because they can't be together in one place for too long. He decided last week that he's going to Holmes Chapel, and even though Louis can't begrudge him for wanting to see Anne and Gemma, he wishes he could keep Harry for longer than this ten days of bliss.

Harry cries when they say goodbye, he always has, so this time, he wants to leave before Louis wakes up. If he doesn't have to look at Louis and kiss him for the last time in a while and think about it too much he can get away without crying. He hates that this happens, but at least he still feels it.

Their last night together, Louis falls asleep on his stomach, while Harry is still sitting on his stool by the window, working on a canvas and watching the city lights outside. He can feel the dread in his stomach at the thought that it's their last night together for a while; Harry wants to leave Louis something beautiful to wake up to.

He wakes Louis up at 2:37 in the morning and they fuck without speaking, their movements practiced and their hands sure, and Louis pulls at Harry's hair in the way he knows he likes and it's smooth and it's effortless and it's  _right_ and when Louis falls asleep again Harry knows what he's going to paint.

In the morning Harry is gone and Louis wakes up to cold sheets and a note written in scrawling, loopy handwriting and a coupon that promises a free blowjob the next time they're together. He checks his limbs and he looks at his reflection in the window but he can't find anything painted on him and even though it's a new tradition he wishes that Harry had continued it for one more night.

He goes to take a shower and finds the entire night sky on his back.

Two minutes later, Harry gets a text full of star emojis and gentle promises and his heart swells.


End file.
